Arlene
by allthingsdecent
Summary: Set around Season 3: What if Arlene visited PPTH and decided she had found the perfect man for her daughter—Dr. James Wilson?


**This idea came from a prompt from the Prompt Queen herself, Anne (aka MystryGAB): What if Arlene tried to set Wilson and Cuddy up? Damn, she gives good prompt. Hope you enjoy. (Late Season 3ish, I'm thinking.)**

**Thanks to Team Stinky Cheese for the close reads. -atd**

"Who's that sitting with Cuddy?" House asked.

Wilson peered over.

"That, I do believe, is Cuddy's mother. I heard something about Cuddy giving her a tour of the hospital today."

"Cuddy has a _mother_?" he said.

"Yes, House. What did you think, that she emerged fully formed in a power suit in a briar patch just to torment you?"

"Something like that," he said, biting on a breadstick, squinting at them. Then he grinned, popped up. "They're sitting at a table for four. It speaks to me."

"House, no!" Wilson said. But it was too late, because House had grabbed his tray and was limping over.

With an exasperated sigh, Wilson picked up his own tray and followed.

"Do you think we should tell people about the _salmonella outbreak_ in the kitchen?" House said loudly to Wilson as they approached Cuddy's table. "Dr. Cuddy wants us to keep these sort of health code violations under wraps but I'm always telling her that public safety comes first."

Then he looked down in mock surprise. "Why hello, Dr. Cuddy!"

Arlene Cuddy, who was eating a chicken Caesar salad, looked down at her food in disgust and pushed her plate away.

Cuddy grabbed the sleeve to House's blazer.

"He's just joking, mom. Tell her you're just joking, House. There is no salmonella."

"Oh yeah, right," House said, broadly winking. "Of course. The food here is _perfectly safe_."

"Mom, this is Dr. Gregory House and Dr. James Wilson," Cuddy said. "One of them is getting fired today!"

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cuddy," Wilson said, holding out his hand. Arlene reluctantly shook it.

"I hope we're not late for lunch," House said.

And before Cuddy could protest, he put his tray down on the table and sat so close to Cuddy she was forced to scoot over.

Wilson sat down too, next to Arlene.

"Dr. Cuddy, why didn't you tell me you were adopted?" House said.

"I'm not adopted!" Cuddy protested.

"This woman can't be more than 15 years older than you," House said, much to Arlene's delight.

"She had me when she was 30!" Cuddy said.

"Huh," House said, inspecting Cuddy's face. "All the job stress has apparently prematurely aged you."

Cuddy rolled her eyes, ignored him.

"And, also, I don't know how to break it to you, she's a shiksa. We exchanged the secret handshake when you weren't looking."

"I converted to Judaism when I married Lisa's father," Arlene said, a bit testily.

"Huh," House said, nodding thoughtfully. "That'll _probably _work out okay. It's been a solid—what?—60 years since your people were last persecuted?"

"House!" Cuddy said.

"How are you enjoying the hospital, Mrs. Cuddy?" Wilson chimed in.

"Well, it's not Mount Sinai," Arlene said. "The food is terrible and the clinic seems rather chaotic and they could use new carpet in the lobby, but for a minor hospital, it seems perfectly adequate."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom," Cuddy said, dryly.

"Well, you have single-handedly beautified the premises," House said.

"Thank you, Dr. House," Arlene said, beaming.

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"We all have the utmost admiration for your daughter," Wilson said. "You must be so proud of her."

Arlene gave a conciliatory shrug.

"At least her career turned out alright," she said.

"As for all those rumors you've heard about staff nicknames for her—Dean of Satan, Attila the Cud, Partypants. I assure you, all false," House said, with a grin.

Cuddy hit him.

"Ouch!"

They glared at each other.

"Did you get a chance to see our state of the art MRI machine?" Wilson interjected.

#####

After lunch, Arlene watched House and Wilson walk away.

"Now why aren't you dating _him_?" she said leadingly.

Cuddy smiled, shook her head.

"I know he's sexy. And yes, the bad boy routine can be amusing, but trust me, it would be a disaster."

"Not House!" Arlene said. "Dr. Wilson."

"_Wilson?_" Cuddy said.

"Why not? He's Jewish, handsome, an oncologist. I've died and gone to Jewish mother heaven."

Cuddy chuckled a bit.

"I've just never thought of Dr. Wilson like that."

"But you _have_ thought of Dr. House that way. . ."

Cuddy stiffened a bit.

"I have not!" she said.

"Of course you have. You have always made disastrous choices when it comes to men."

"House and I are just friends. And barely that."

"He spent the entire lunch mocking and baiting you, yet when I mention the possibility of you dating one of them, you immediately assumed it was him."

"He said you were beautiful!" Cuddy protested. "I thought maybe you had a crush."

"I saw right through that false flattery," Arlene said. "Listen, I've known men like House."

"I strongly doubt that," Cuddy said, with a dry chuckle.

"The wild buck that no woman can tame but you think _you're _the only who can tame him."

"Mom, this isn't a romance novel. . .It's a hospital"

"Here's my advice to you. . .fuck him," Arlene said.

"_What?!" _Cuddy sputtered.

"A man like House, you fuck once and get out of your system. A man like Wilson, you marry."

"Mom!" Cuddy's face had turned a dark shade of crimson.

"What? You're scandalized? You think I was born yesterday? You think I didn't have a sex life before your father?" Then she muttered, under her breath: "Or after. . ."

"No, I just. . ." Cuddy composed herself. "I've never heard you talk like that before. And hopefully, I never will again."

Arlene snorted.

"Let me set the record straight, mom," Cuddy said. "I am not going to date Dr. Wilson _or_ sleep with House. They're employees. They work for me."

"Honey, if men didn't date—and marry—women that worked for them, we'd lose half the population of New Jersey."

#####

Two days later, House stepped into Wilson's office.

He sniffed the air.

"Why does it smell like a Dubai disco in here?" he said.

"It, uh, must be my aftershave," Wilson said.

"You have a date!"

"I do not!"

"Either you have a date, or you're planning on being trapped in a poorly ventilated room with somebody that you really hate."

"I am going to a dinner party tonight," Wilson said. "That's all."

"Whose dinner party?"

"No one you know," Wilson said quickly.

House squinted at him.

"I know everyone you know."

"An old college buddy of mine. He's. . .looking to fix me up with a friend of his."

"I knew it!" House said. "Have you seen her picture? Is she hot?"

Wilson raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"You could say that," he said.

"In that case, I'd go home and fumigate."  
#####

Wilson arrived early for dinner at Julia Cuddy's house, wielding a bottle of wine.

Julia answered the door. Wilson had never met her before. Pretty, but not as pretty as big sis. Still, a solid 8.

"James! I'm so glad you could make it!" Arlene said, emerging from the kitchen, and possessively grabbing the bottle of wine that he was holding.

"Thanks for inviting me," Wilson said, peering into the dining room. The table was set for five. "Is Lisa here yet?"

"Not yet," Arlene said. "But why don't you come help me in the kitchen?"

Five minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Julia answered.

A man was standing there—lanky, unshaven, with the most insanely beautiful eyes she had even seen.

"Who are you?" Julia said.

"I'm Greg!" he said. He handed her a bouquet of flowers. "And you must be Lisa's sister."

"I'm Julia," she said, skeptically.

Arlene and Wilson came out of the kitchen.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Arlene said.

"Lisa invited me," House said.

"She _did_?" Wilson said.

"I guess I'm supposed to be her date or something," House said, with a shrug. Then he turned to Wilson. "I didn't know you and Julia went to college together. Or was it her husband you went to college with?"

"Huh?" Julia said.

"Nevermind," Wilson said. "There's just a bit of confusion."

"I think you mean, a bit of lying," House said.

"How'd you even know I was here?" Wilson hissed to House under his breath. Then he shook his head. It was House. He _always_ figured things out.

"Of course Lisa would invite the jerk without telling me," Arlene said, annoyed. Then she turned to Michael, Julia's husband, and said with an extravagant sigh. "He's here. We may as well set another place at the table."

"Is there anything to drink in this house?" House said, rubbing his hands together and following Michael into the dining room.

The door rang again.

"I'll get it!" Wilson said, helpfully.

He opened the door: Cuddy, already looking steeled for a long evening.

She almost did a doubletake when she saw him.

"What are you doing here?" she said.

"Mom invited him," Julia said.

"You didn't know I was coming?" Wilson said, hurt.

House stepped out from the dining room, holding a glass of scotch.

"Bad form to be late for your own party, Cuddy," he scolded.

This time, Cuddy really did do a doubletake.

"And what's HE doing here?"

"_You_ invited him!" Julia and Wilson said in unison.

"Short term memory loss," House said. "A sign of early menopause."

"I did NO SUCH—"

"Dinner is ready!" Arlene said.

Then she saw the tableaux of Cuddy, House, and Wilson, all glaring at each other.

"Everything okay out here?" she said.

"Everything's fine," Cuddy said. As she made her way into the dining room, she gave House the finger.

#####

Arlene arranged the seats so that Cuddy was next to Wilson and House was next to Julia. Poor Michael was forced to sit next to his mother-in-law.

While House was trying to get Julia to spill embarrassing stories from Cuddy's teenage years (the best he got: she threw in on her prom date's shoes), Arlene was regaling Wilson with questions about his practice.

"It must be so hard on you," Arlene said. "Especially when you have to deal with terminal cases."

"If I'm able to give a dying child one last Christmas, or a dying father a chance to see his daughter walk down the aisle then it was all worth it," Wilson said.

There was a chorus of "awwws" at the table.

House rolled his eyes.

"So tell me, James, have you ever been married?" Arlene asked, putting her hand on his.

"Has he ever been married?" House said merrily. "I hope you guys have a few hours. And an Excel spread sheet. Possibly an abacus."

Wilson shot him a look.

"Yes, Mrs. Cuddy. I've been so fortunate as to walk down the aisle three times," Wilson said.

"And less fortunate to walk into divorce court three times," House quipped.

"Where do you think your marriages went wrong?" Arlene asked, Oprah-style.

"I loved all my wives. Still do. _Love_, present tense. But I guess they just weren't the one."

"My Lisa hasn't found Mr. Right. Actually, she hasn't even found Mr. He'll Do For Now. She doesn't date much."

"Mom, I'm a little busy running a hospital," Cuddy said, gulping on her wine.

"Somehow Julia managed to find time to have a husband, a career, and two kids."

"She's an interior decorator!" Cuddy said.

"Hey!" Julia said.

"Sorry. I mean, that's a wonderful job," Cuddy said. "But it's not exactly the same thing."

"Julia has different values," Arlene said. "She's a mother and wife first, with her job in its proper place."

"Speaking of which, where are the little rug rats?" House asked, looking around. "Assembling iPods in a factory somewhere?"

"They're asleep," Michael said.

"Yeah? This whole time? Party started at 7."

"They're in their rooms."

"Alone?" House said. "Just watching Pay-Per-View? Doing bong hits?"

"They're 3 and 5!" Michael said. "And they're with the nanny."

"Ahh, so you have _help_," House said. "That must be so . . .helpful."

"It's true. I have a live-in nanny," Julia said defensively.

"Her name is Maria and she's a wonderful woman." She smiled at Michael. "We're very lucky to have her."

"Certainly Lisa could afford a nanny," Arlene snorted. "That's not the issue. She just has a different set of priorities than her sister."

"And what priorities are those, mom?" Cuddy said tartly.

"You like being in power. You like telling people what to do. You always have."

"That's hot," House said. Cuddy gave him a swift kick under the table.

"You have such a beautiful home here," Wilson said, again trying to smooth over a tense situation. "I should've known you were a decorator, Julia."

"Thank you," Julia said.

"Julia decorated my house, too," Arlene said, proudly. "I always get compliments on it. Makes a mother proud."

"As opposed to the crippling shame you must feel over your daughter who runs a hospital," House said.

"What?" Arlene shot at him.

The whole table was now staring at House.

"Why do you ride her so hard?" House said. "Most mothers would be thrilled to have a daughter like her."

"House, you don't have to. . ." Cuddy started.

"I'm serious. All you've done is give her grief from the moment we got here," House said. "Do you not see what the rest of us see?"

"And what's that, Dr. House?"

House suddenly looked trapped. Like maybe he'd said too much. But there was no turning back now.

"An incredible woman," he said. "A woman whom everyone admires."

Cuddy looked down at the table, blushed a bit.

"That's just perfect," Arlene muttered.

"What's perfect mom?" Julia said.

Arlene shook her head, didn't finish the thought.

"Do I smell fresh-baked pie for dessert?" Wilson said.

#####

When the party was over, Cuddy walked House to his car. They both waved to Wilson as he drove away.

"That was bracing," House said.

"That's what you get for showing up unannounced to the party," she said. Then she hesitated. "But, I do want to thank you for what you said in there. It . . . meant a lot."

"It was nothing," House said, with a shrug.

They looked at each other.

"I don't know about you, but I could really use another drink after that," House said.

"Welcome to a night with Arlene Cuddy," Cuddy said. "I always stock up on liquor beforehand."

"Sullivan's?" House said, squinting at her.

Cuddy thought about it for a second.

"I'll meet you there."

At Sullivan's, they sat at the corner of the bar, their bodies nearly touching. Cuddy ordered a martini. House ordered another scotch.

"Has your mom always been that hard on you?" House asked, looking at her.

"In a word, yes," Cuddy said. "Julia can do no wrong. And I can do no right."

"Huh," House said. "My mom basically worships the ground I walk on."

"Of course she does."

"But my dad hates my guts! So cheers to that."

And they clinked glasses.

"You had no idea Wilson was going to be there, did you?" House said, with a sly grin.

"Not a clue. I thought I was having a quiet dinner with my family. The best laid plans. . ."

"All I heard was the word 'laid' in that sentence, in case you were wondering," House said.

"Cute," Cuddy said. Then she speared her martini and bit it in such a sexy way that House was practically salivating.

"Mom thinks Wilson is marriage material," she said.

"That's because Wilson _is_ marriage material," House agreed.

"But she thinks I should just fuck you," Cuddy said, with a laugh.

House choked on his scotch.

"_What?_"

"I'm not kidding. That's literally what she said. She said I should fuck you to get you out of my system."

"I clearly misjudged her," House said. "She's a woman of wisdom and sound judgment."

"But I already did fuck you," Cuddy said, with a sultry laugh. "Remember?'

House had to work hard not to get a boner right there at the bar.

"And look how much fun that was," he said.

She shrugged, like she couldn't disagree.

"It wasn't bad," she said.

"_Wasn't bad_?" he said. "Are we remembering the same night. It was magical. Angels sang. Doves took flight."

"All sex is magical to a horny college boy," she laughed.

"We were great together," he said. "And we'll be even better now."

She looked at him. God, she had wanted him for 20 years—had gotten so skilled at denying that urge, that _lust_.

"Mother _does_ know best," she said.

"We wouldn't want to disappoint her," House said.

Cuddy chugged the last bit of her martini and slammed it on the bar with a flourish.

"Your place or mine?" she said.

####

They ended up going to her house, because it was closer.

"This place would look a lot better if Julia had decorated it," he said. She swatted him—but his sarcasm was in fact welcome. It was a foreign situation for them, but he was still House.

She led him into the bedroom.

"Wait right here," she said.

House sat on the edge of her bed, his legs parted, bouncing a bit from excitement.

Five minutes later, she came out of the bathroom in a thigh-skimming teddy.

"Oh sweet Jesus," House said.

"You like?" she said, giggling a bit.

"Yes please," he said.

He pulled her toward him. She stood between his parted legs and his hands went under the teddy, resting on her hips, just lightly grazing her ass, and they kissed. Some kisses were an opening statement, an experiment of sorts, a testing of the waters. When House kissed you, your entire body felt it. It made you hot. It made you wet. It made you wonder what else he could do with that wonderful tongue.

She didn't have to wait for long. His mouth went from her mouth to her throat, and then to her breasts—and then she was lying on the bed and his face was buried between her legs.

When a guy has waited 20 years to have sex with you and the first thing he does is go down on you, you know a few things: You know that he's an experienced lover. You know that he gets off on your orgasm. You know that. . . _oh fuck, where was she? Ohmygod, mmmm . .this felt so good._

She was going to come in two minutes, like some sort of horny schoolgirl herself. Her muscles began to contract around his tongue. Sensing that, he moved his tongue away from her clit, eased the pressure, slackened the pace a bit. It was a sweet torture. She moaned, felt the waves of pleasure rolling over her, slowly.

"House. . ." she gasped.

He seemed excited to hear the sound of his own last name while he was pleasuring her.

He brought his tongue back to her clit—and she moaned louder. And then he was doing this _thing_—this kind of circling her clit while applying pressure and speed thing—and her whole body surrendered and shuddered and bucked and her orgasm was like a tsunami. "Oh my God!" she screamed as she came.

He emerged from between her legs—messy hair, sticky mouth, looking triumphant.

"Why do you have to be so damn good at everything?" Cuddy said, falling back on the pillow.

"You sound like you're mad that I just gave you a great orgasm," House said.

Cuddy mussed her own hair, tried to catch her breath. She could _still_ feel her orgasm coursing through her body. She felt drunk on it.

"It's just that. . . oh_ my God_!" she said.

"You said that already," he said, with a rakish grin.

She pulled him toward her again and they kissed—that heady feeling of tasting your own juices on someone else's mouth. House's mouth.

"For the record, that was the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed," he whispered.

"You were more than a witness," she said dryly.

"And to think that was just Round One!" he said.

She looked down at his tented boxers.

"Oh my God," she said.

######

The next day, House saw Wilson.

"Okay, what happened between you and Cuddy last night?"

"Nothing," House said.

Wilson gave him a skeptical look.

"You sure? You guys looked awfully cozy when I was driving away."

"I'm pretty sure I'd know if something had happened."

Wilson made somewhat defiant eye contact.

"Because Arlene Cuddy called imploring me to ask her out. Her exact words were: You two need some time alone together, without that insufferable House."

"Moms love me," House said.

"So I'm going to do it," Wilson said, putting his hands on his hips.

"Do what?"

"Ask her out. Unless you think there's some reason I shouldn't."

House blinked at him.

"Go for it," he said evenly.

Later, Wilson wandered into Cuddy's office.

"Your mom called me," Wilson said.

"What? Why? Oh God, high school flashback"

"She thinks you and I should go on a _date_." He pronounced the word date with a little extra gusto.

"A date?"

"Yes, one without our adult child."

"Huh," Cuddy said.

"House tells me nothing happened between you last night. Because if it did, I wouldn't want to get in the way of anything."

"No, nothing happened," Cuddy said quickly.

"So . . . dinner on Friday?" He gave her a hopeful smile.

"Dinner on Friday sounds great."

#####

They had a nice dinner. It was easy and familiar, the conversation flowed freely and they laughed a lot. Because they were _friends_.

And afterwards, he went to test the waters, tried to kiss her on the mouth in the car and she offered him her cheek instead.

He got it.

"Walk you to the door?" he said, ever gallant.

"I'm good," she said. "Goodnight Wilson."

"Goodnight Cuddy," he said sheepishly.

He drove off.

She sighed, made her way to the door.

"Poor Wilson—denied," a male voice said.

She nearly jumped a foot in the air.

House had been lurking behind a tree in the dark.

"You scared the shit out of me," she said.

"I just happened to be in the neighborhood," he said.

"Or, you just happened to be creepily stalking my house waiting for my date with Wilson to end."

"Or that," he said, with a guilty smile.

"Soooo, no chemistry with Skippy the Wonder Onc?" he said.

"Different kind of chemistry than I have with you," she said.

He stepped toward her.

"I like ours better," he said.

"Me too," she admitted.

"So, um, can I come in?" he asked.

"Mom said I was only supposed to fuck you once, to get you out of my system."

"Am I out of your system?" he said.

"Not even close," she said.

And she motioned for him to follow her inside.

######

They spent the whole weekend in bed together. On Monday, she had lunch with Arlene.

Arlene frowned, gave her daughter the once-over.

"You're sleeping with him, aren't you?"

"Mom, you need to get it through your thick skull that Dr. Wilson and I are just friends."

"Not Wilson, House!"

Cuddy turned red.

"Why would you say that?"

"First of all, you're glowing. House was right. You have been looking a little peaked lately. You seem to have gotten 10 years younger in the past 5 days."

"Huh," Cuddy said.

"Second, he's completely in love with you. I knew it the minute he gallantly came to your defense at dinner. And the feeling is mutual. A mother knows these things."

"So you would. . . give it your blessing?" Cuddy asked cautiously.

"Heck no! I'll fight it tooth and nail. He's a horrible choice for you. But you can't fight nature."

"No," Cuddy said. "You can't."

THE END


End file.
